CRIS ZIM! THE DISASTER CONTINUES A FAILED ENTERPRISE
by tusitalabruni
Summary: What has Cris Zim been up to? Well, he slipped through a time anomaly and wound up on Picard's Enterprise. Naturally Zim continues to be an unlovable shlub, so you can easily imagine how he'd screw up . . .


CRIS ZIM!

THE DISASTER CONTINUES

A FAILED ENTERPRISE

Cris Zim stepped into a clearing in the woods to find Deanna Troi in repose, taking in the sunshine, eyes closed. _Wow_, he thought. _She is so hot._ The front of his pants stiffened, and he adjusted himself. It was hard . . . difficult . . . to hide an erection in a Starfleet uniform.

He thought she might be sleeping. He remembered something from his past, something he'd rather forget, but his so-called friends would constantly remind him about it, and he thought he could maybe do it again, this time successfully. He took a step forward, and a twig snapped beneath his boot.

Troi's eyes opened. _Fuck! So much for that plan_.

"Zim," she said. "What are you doing? I thought I had the holodeck for an hour."

"Uh . . ." Oh shit! She's a Betazoid! He tried to shield all of his intentions toward her by thinking of a brick wall. It worked for that dude in Village of the Damned, right? "I . . ."

"I sense confusion," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I, uh . . . um . . ."

"Here, sit down." She patted the forest floor next to her. "If you want to talk, I have the time."

_Play it cool_, he thought. He rushed toward her, trying to slow down and not seem so eager. As with almost everything else he'd ever done, he failed. He slumped down next to her, out of breath. He opened his mouth, but Troi shushed him.

"It's okay. I know you're not comfortable. Maybe this will help." She put an arm around him and pulled his head down to her breast. "Go on. Tell me what you need to."

Zim's pants stretched uncomfortably tight. He thought his ear was against her nipple. He really wanted to turn his head and press his mouth against it.

"I sense . . . you have sexual feelings for me."

_Dammit._ "Uh . . ."

"It's fine, Zim. Really. I feel the same way for you."

_Wait, what? This never happens._

She took his head from her breast and held his face close to hers. "Do you want to make love, Zim?"

_Oh God_. His erection was so hard it was painful, and he knew he was about to cum. He started thinking of dead babies. His grandma shitting herself. Bruni sucking his own dick. It helped a little. "Yes," he whispered.

Troi unzipped her uniform and stepped out of it, naked as the day she was born. Her breasts were everything Zim hoped for, and she had a slight wisp of a Hitler mustache above her pussy. She then reached out to his own uniform, removing it in one fell swoop. She sat back, spreading her legs, her pussy opening like a flower in the sun. She touched his engorged cock, meaning to pull him down and into her.

Instead, Zim stiffened and blew his load all over her hand. His spunk shot all the way up her arm, slicking it like one big rubber glove.

"There he is!" a voice shouted.

The sound of maybe a dozen people running toward them thundered through Zim's ears, and he tried desperately to get his uniform back on. By the time he realized he was putting his arms into the legs, it was too late. He was surrounded by Starfleet officers, phasers drawn.

"MISTER ZIM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Zim pulled his arms out, grinning sheepishly. "I . . . uh . . ." Oh shit. It was Captain Picard.

"Get your uniform on immediately!" Picard yelled.

"Oh no!" It was the real Deanna Troi, and she stared at the naked hologram of herself with semen dripping off her arm. "Why?"

Picard tapped his Starfleet communicator. "Chief O'Brien. End this program immediately!"

The hologram shimmered and vanished, revealing a room covered in yellow lines. Zim's load now decorated the floor.

"Lt. Barclay!" Picard yelled. "I thought I told you to disable this feature! No one should be able to use Starfleet officers in their holodeck programs!"

Reggie bit his lower lip, staring down. "I, uh, I t-t-thought I did. I don't know h-h-h-how this could happen. L-l-let me examine the program and find out h-h-how Zim did this."

"While you're at it," Picard said, "don't forget to delete this program. I want the Enterprise's network to be scrubbed clean of this abomination."

"Y-y-yes sir." Reggie retreated to get to work as soon as possible.

"MR. ZIM! Why are you not dressed yet?! Not that you're fit to wear that uniform."

"Sorry, sir," ZIm said. He turned the uniform right side up and stepped into it.

"I can't believe you would do something like this," Troi said. "I feel so violated."

"MR. ZIM! You will clean up after yourself. After that, I want you in my ready room."

"Okay."

"Okay?! You are in Starfleet! You're lucky I don't have you led there in chains!"

"Yes sir." Zim offered a salute, which meant next to nothing to Picard.

"Be there in fifteen minutes," Picard said, "or I will personally kick you out an air lock."

"Yes. Sir." Zim didn't dare look Picard in the eye.

Everyone left him alone with his spunk puddle. He stared at it, wondering how he would clean it up. He didn't see anything around to wipe it up, so he thought maybe he would use his Starfleet uniform. There was probably some kind of rule against it, but so what? The only thing that gave him pause was that he thought having cum on his sleeve would be gay. Nevertheless, he bent down and wiped it up. He rubbed his sleeve against his side until the cum had soaked in, leaving only a couple of long dark spots on his uniform. That would have to be enough.

He could never remember where anything was on the Enterprise. It was a huge ship. He consulted the digital maps until he discovered it was located just off the bridge. That was several levels up. He sighed at the thought of such exertion, and he wandered around, looking for a turbo lift.

After a fumbling few minutes, Zim found his way to the bridge. When he stepped off the turbo lift, everyone gave him the stink eye. What the fuck? Like they'd never tried to fuck a hologram of a coworker . . .

He went to the captain's ready room and hit the buzzer. "ENTER," said Picard.

Zim pressed the button, and the door whisked to the side. He walked into the ready room to see Picard sitting behind his desk. Worf stood to the side, looking disdainfully at Zim. He went to sit down in a chair.

"MR. ZIM! I did not give you permission to sit!"

Zim let out a tremendous sigh and stood.

"AT ATTENTION, MR. ZIM!" Picard yelled.

Zim straightened out and stared ahead.

"Mr. ZIm," Picard continued, "you came to us through a time anomaly on Praxton 5. We recognized you as a human from the past. Since we didn't have a way to send you back, we adopted you as one of our own. Unfortunately, you were so lazy that you couldn't even make ensign. We now find ourselves in a position where we can no longer tolerate having you onboard this ship. You will be stripped of everything and confined to quarters until Mr. LaForge can find a way to send you back to the past. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

"Oh come on," Zim said. "I wasn't trying to fuck the actual Troi. It was just a hologram!"

"MR. ZIM! Have you no idea what you have done?! Counselor Troi has taken a leave of absence because of your tawdry actions! She is undergoing therapy of her own now. You have broken one of my most compassionate officers. If it were still allowed, I'd have you horsewhipped and hung from the yard arm! Is that understood?!"

"Yeah."

"Add to that your constant insubordination! Worf, escort Mr. Zim to his quarters and confine him there. Remove any Starfleet paraphernalia from his person and his quarters. He will wear RAGS until we get rid of him!"

"Yes sir," Worf said. He turned to Zim. "Let's go, scum."

Just as they were about to make their exit, they ran into Commander LaForge, his hand raised to ring the buzzer. "Oh! Hello, Worf."

"Hello, Commander," Worf said.

"ZIm! I'm glad you're here. Also, Captain, I have good news for you. I think I have the transporters configured to allow for space/time transmogrification. I can say with 85% accuracy that we can deliver Zim back to his own time."

"And what about the other . . ." Zim paused, trying to do the math. ". . . the other, whatever percentage is left?"

LaForge shrugged. "Your molecules separate forever, and you're dead."

"That's fucking great."

"Commander LaForge," Picard said, "make it so."

"Yes sir," LaForge said. "Come on, Zim. Let's get you out of here."

"What about that buffer thing you got?" ZIm asked. "Won't my uh . . . signature thingie still be in there?"

"Only when it comes to space transports. There really is no telling when it comes to space/time transmogrification."

Zim turned back just in time to see Picard bury his face deep into both hands. "Gee, that's swell."

Later Zim stood on the transporter deck, watching as LaForge made the adjustments he needed to make. Picard entered and stood next to LaForge. They whispered back and forth, and Picard had a very angry look on his face.

"What?" ZIm asked. "Are you talking about me?"

"I was just asking Commander LaForge if he really thought there was a small chance of you being completely destroyed," Picard said. "Sadly, he said yes. I was hoping to watch you get transported to death."

Zim scowled. Why did this guy hate him so much? It wasn't like the hologram of Troi was a real person. It wasn't a big deal, like that I-thought-you-were-sleeping incident.

"We're ready, sir," LaForge said.

"Energize," Picard said.

LaForge manipulated something on his console, and the air flashed around Zim. It felt hazy, and it tingled a little. Reality blanked out for a second, but when it came back he found himself back in Lisle. It didn't look like the future, so he guessed LaForge had done something right. He let out a tremendous sigh and wondered what he should do next. Maybe his parents would finally take him back in.

After walking for an hour, he made it back to his childhood home. He stood on the porch for a moment, looking up at the place where he grew up. The last time he was here, his parents had kicked him out. They refused to let him live there. Maybe they will have missed him. Maybe they will let him live here again.

He knocked on the door and waited. Footsteps sounded behind the door and paused, probably looking through the peephole. Someone muttered, but the locks clicked, and the door opened.

"Hi Dad," Zim said.

"What the fuck do you want?" his father asked.

"Well, I've been down on my luck—"

"What else is new?"

Zim ignored him. "I just lost my job, and—"

"Yeah, yeah."

Zim forced himself to not shout at his old man. "I need a place to stay until I get on my feet."

Zim's dad laughed and laughed and laughed. Then, without a word, he went back inside and shut the door. Zim heard three locks engaging.

"Motherfucker," Zim muttered. He turned away, trying to think of someone else he could live with. The problem was, when he left Romeoville all those years ago, he burned every bridge he'd ever had. Fitz wouldn't even take his call. Bruni would, but fuck that guy. He was the worst of them, except maybe for Brandon.

Maybe his brother Geoff would help him out. That, of course, depended on whether or not his phone number was still valid. He flipped through his contacts until he found the right one and dialed it. Three rings in, and someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Geoff?"

"Yeah."

"It's me, Cris."

Geoff hung up.

"DAMMIT!" Zim threw his phone, and it broke on the pavement into a thousand pieces. When he realized what he'd done, he cursed under his breath for about a minute. Then: "Why does this shit always happen to me?!"

At least he still had a burner phone. He couldn't play Final Fantasy on it, but it would do in a pinch.

Fuck. Now he had no choice. He went to his contacts and dialed Bruni, hoping he wasn't drunk enough to be Future Booze Jesus. It was only three in the afternoon, but with him, you never knew.

The phone rang only once. Bruni screamed, "ZIM! I KNEW THE DAY WOULD COME! WHAT DO YOU REQUIRE?!"

"Dammit, Bruni. I just . . . I . . . Fuck. I need help. I've got nowhere to stay."

"Excellent," Bruni said. "So you would like to live in my sex dungeon."

"No. Just at your place for a while."

"I have such sights to show you."

"Stop! Stop making this weird!"

"Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?" Bruni asked.

Zim sighed. "Just come pick me up."

"Yes. I'll be sure to bring an ether rag and some duct tape. It'll take me a few."

Zim couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck it. Forget everything I just said. I hope you die in a fire." He hung up, grinding his teeth.

The phone rang. Bruni. Goddammit. He rejected the call. A minute later, he saw there was a voicemail. Against his better judgment, he listened to it.

Again, Bruni. "Zim. I know you're frightened and scared. I promise I will only hurt you a little bit. Or not at all. Have you considered hitchhiking across America, seeing this great country of ours? As your attorney and physician, I recommend taking this course of action. Or I'll find you. You won't like me when I find you."

Zim sighed yet again. Maybe Bruni was right. Maybe it was best to just get away from everything he knew. He vaguely remembered doing that one time and winding up in Colorado with Rico, which was horrifying. Maybe this time he would go the other way.

This time he headed east, and after a while, he decided he would go south. It was getting colder out, so he reasoned the south would be a lot warmer.

Once again, he left his home and hit the road for adventure which he really didn't care for. He'd rather just take a nap.

CRIS ZIM WILL RETURN . . . NEXT FRIDAY!


End file.
